The Reason Why
by grim grace
Summary: "Technically, this could still be pinpointed as Amelia Pond's fault. This wouldn't have happened had she not decided that after a life-threatening encounter with the Angels that he was a fine specimen of a male, and she needed to get happy." 11/Amy R&R!


**A tribute to the wonderful Amelia Pond, and the Eleventh Doctor—both of whom have become my FAVOURITE doctor an companion ever. (I feel a little unfaithful to David Tennant, and Catherine Tate—but honestly, Matt and Karen are genius.) Hope you like. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize. This is completely non-profit, and entirely for fun. Please enjoy.**

The Doctor was thinking.

This wasn't considered something new, inside the TARDIS, so Amy had left him in peace—retreating into one of the expansive rooms of the ship and leaving the Doctor to his thoughts.

And that was a problem.

Because the Doctor _certainly_ had a headache, and if Amy were around he would have told her that her incessant—but extraordinarily curious—questions were the reason for the throbbing pain he was feeling in his head.

However, at this junction, Amy _wasn't_ there.

So the only explanation for the pounding pain between his ears could only be blamed on himself. And his unending, and _loud_ thoughts.

He could, of course, _blame _Amy for the headache still, as she was the sole reason it had come around. If not physically bringing on his headache, she had physically brought on his thoughts, which had then lead to the headache. Technically, this could still all be pinpointed as Amelia Pond's fault.

Had she not decided that after a life-threatening encounter with the Angels (—which were certainly enough to throw anyone for a loop—) that he was a fine specimen of a male, and she needed to, well, get _happy._

Forgetting that he was nine hundred and seven years old and that she was _engaged _and getting _married _in the morning. And when he had managed to throw her off for a moment, by discovering that nearly everything that had happened to him following his latest regeneration was circulating around Miss. Pond, she had still not let up. His struggle to remove her limbs from his, all while digesting new information, and kicking himself internally every time that he recalled the way Amy's lips felt soft on his—and the passion that she conveyed with them. The way that her lips seemingly _caressed _his, while her hands played lightly—yet very strongly for a girl her size—on his chest. And the feeling of her pressing up against him, and in his moment of weakness when he let his hands rest on her thin hips and pulled the dainty young girl closer to him…

…_Damn it, Pond_!

Once again discarding the fond thoughts of his passionate—yet brief—encounter with Amy, he focused on getting rid of his headache.

A usual remedy—one that he had discovered when Rose had first joined him and the TARDIS was suddenly not as quiet as it was prior to their meeting—was to sit and listen to the calming sounds of the TARDIS, and hopefully—straighten out his wonky thoughts. And Amy _was _the reason that this was not successful. Just as the Doctor felt his headache ebbing away—the throbbing becoming duller and the pain lessening—she decided to grace him with her presence.

"I figured it out!" Amy said, enthusiastically as she made her way into the TARDIS console room—at a quick pace, her red hair flying out behind her. She was moving with such momentum that when she finally tried to stop, feet from the Doctor—she had to reach out and grasp one of the many levers of the TARDIS to stop herself falling over.

The Doctor pressed a hand to his head—his fingers massaging just behind his eyes. "Figured what out?" He asked—still a little curious even after everything.

"I figured out why you wouldn't kiss me!"

Ah. This was just what he needed.

"Amy. We've been over this. I am _nine hundred and seven_ years old. You… are not. You're _human, _and you're _Amy_ and this?" He motioned between the two of them—much like he had when he had been struggling to focus on reasons why what she was trying to do could _not _happen. "This? Could never work."

Amy smiled a coy smile—her left eyebrow raised and her lips quirked.

"You say that, Doctor," She continued with an amount of sass in her voice that had the Doctor worried. "But I've been around this TARDIS, I've been around you, and even more importantly—I've been around _men_."

Entirely convinced that this coming argument he was sure to have being _not _something he wanted—the Doctor suddenly began to busy himself—analyzing things on the TARDIS that he had never paid attention to before.

_Ah. What very interesting blue boring-er buttons…_

"You see, Doctor, I believe that you're nine hundred and seven years old. But I also believe that you're a _male."_

Amy, recognizing his blatant refusal to pay attention to her, took this as a sign she was on the right track.

"You may be nine hundred and seven years old, Doctor—and from my keen intuition when it comes to observing desperate boys—" The Doctor could understand this. She was engaged to that nurse, who seemed to be nothing _but _desperate. "—and I know that _no _male, no matter his species, could go without shagging for nine hundred and seven years."

_Don't look at her. Don't look at her. _The Doctor repeated his mantra in his head, knowing full well that if he were to look at the ginger kissogram she would almost certainly be smirking at him in a way that would stir feeling in his stomach he knew he couldn't feel for Amy Pond.

Specifically whilst in the midst of _this _conversation.

Again taking his silence as an answer, Amy smirked.

"I'm right, aren't I?" She questioned.

_Don't look at her. _

"No." The Doctor stated indignantly. "You are not right. As a matter of fact you could not be more wrong."

As he busied himself _not_ looking at her, he could imagine the mischievous smile that would be gracing her features at that moment.

"Fine then." She said stubbornly, and for one stupid moment the Doctor guessed that she might give up. Emphasis on the _stupid. _Instead, Amy took a firm step on the stairs, and continued. "If you _want_ to lie to me then go ahead. But I know that no man—alien or not—can go without doing the deed for nine hundred years."

_Don't look at her. _

Unfortunately, the man who went by many names (destroyer, time-lord victorious, traitor, hero, savior) didn't have enough will power to remain not looking at his gorgeous—and yet, _extremely irritating—_companion.

When he did catch her eye, he saw exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Amelia Pond—amazing, brave, fairy tale Amelia Pond—was leaning against the railing now. Her arms lazily folded across her chest, and a calculating—and unbelievably tempting—smirk on her face. Her legs, donned in black—marginally see through—tights, and casually crossed at the ankle with her denim black skirt so short it made the Doctor swallow.

"Unless…" Amy continued, smirking while she unfolded her arms and sauntered towards him—her hips swaying—

_Come on, _the Doctor said to himself. _You are a nine hundred and seven year old time lord. You can withstand the temptation of a young, childlike human. _

Keeping his mantra in mind, he managed to reply—in what he thought was a completely natural voice.

"Unless what?" He asked—quite sure that he didn't even want the answer. He just wanted to hide in the bottom part of the TARDIS—and wait until Amy and this mood of hers died down. He moved forward, stepping towards her and at the same time angling his head so he was looking down at her—peering into her inquisitive brown eyes.

"Unless there's something there." She said.

For a quick moment—a momentary moment, almost instantaneous, without enough time to blink—the Doctor was confused.

_Momentarily. _

"Something …where?"

Any took another worrying step closer to him. Close enough, now, for the Doctor to reach out with his hands, grasp her shoulders and pull her to him. Effortlessly, he could have kissed her again. Plus, she had said herself that she didn't expect him to stay with her forever. He could easily just...

_Stop it! _

"Something…" Amy hadn't stopped. Still slightly swaying her hips, she lifted a hand and pressed it to his chest, accurately placing it over his first heart.

—_holding hands, fingers running across his chest, pulling at his braces, running through his hair, holding onto his neck—_

"There." Amy finished, smirking. Her words were enough to snap the Doctor from his thoughts—which sent him into a moment of embarrassment and his face flushed slightly.

He frowned slightly. Grasping at her hand—he lifted it for a moment. He moved it slightly to the right, pressing it above his second heart. The moment she touched his chest, she felt the second heart beat—and he watched her eyes widen slightly when she recognized what it was.

"Here too?" He asked, glad he now had control (somewhat miniscule) over the situation.

Amy looked confused for a moment.

"Two." He explained. "I've got two hearts, Amy."

She still looked confused.

"I have two hearts, Amy—because I'm a time lord. I'm not human. Which is why I said that this can never happen." Again he motioned between the two of them—realizing how alarmingly close they were standing.

Amy remained silent.

"What do you think of that?" He asked—a little worried by her sudden silence. Perhaps he'd just made his alien a little _too _real.

She shrugged.

_Shrugged. _

"Well, it's kind of gross." She said simply, "But if there aren't any other outstanding differences concerning anatomy I still don't see why I'm having so much trouble convincing you."

The Doctor stared at her.

…_Gross? _

Amy frowned, misreading his silence. "You do…" She sighed. "Well, I figured that singe everything I can _see _looks human enough, that it would be the same for down stairs…" She said shrugging again.

She raised a lone eyebrow—staring at her silence (shocked) Doctor.

The Doctor spluttered.

"I—" he struggled (yes, struggled. She caught him off guard!) to answer. "I am perfectly _fine _in that… _department." _He said indignantly. "I'll have you know that I've received many compliments about—_"_

_Why am I still talking? _

Amy was grinning. "Well then, what's the issue? I'm up for it. You'll _certainly _be _up_ for it. You've got all the right parts—"

"—you're getting married in the morning!"

The Doctor inwardly flinched at his inadvertent reminder about her looming marriage, and unfortunate fiancé. But it was a good argument nonetheless, and it might sway his persistent companion from what she clearly wanted right now.

"We're in a time machine." Amy countered with a shrug.

The Doctor shook his head. "That doesn't count, and you know it." He told her seriously.

Somehow they were closer now. Barely inches apart—close enough for Amy's hands to remain on his chest, where her thumb was slowly moving across the material of his shirt.

"Marriage isn't something you ignore." He told her, ignoring her moving thumb. "It's an oath. A _promise. _ That you'll love one person, and _only _one person for the rest of your life. It's not something you just blow off and ignore whenever you feel like it."

For some reason, this very well delivered, eloquent, order, meaningful and (to all intents and purposes) very worthy _Doctor-like_ speech only made his red headed and very stubborn companion smile.

"I knew it."

What?

"What?"

Amy grinned. "You've been talking about the importance of marriage since we left." She said. "Since we said goodbye to River."

River?

What did River have to do with this?

"You were engaged to River Song, weren't you?"

The Doctor looked at her. "What?" He echoed before he could help himself. He struggled to find a following sentence, so he settled for repeating himself. "_What?" _

Amy was smirking. Clearly, she wasn't convinced.

The Doctor took a deep breath. If he had ever had any need to convince Amy of anything—aside from the multiple reasons why he and she _couldn't_ have a casual roll in the hay—it was this. He had no romantic interest in River Song. He hoped he never would. Things never worked well with people who met up in the wrong order. He knew her before she knew him. He needed Amy to know that he and River would never have _anything_ like that.

Well, he wasn't entirely sure _why_ he needed Amy to understand this.

He just _did. _

"Amy." He said, entirely serious. 'I don't know what River told you. But she and I certainly haven't been engaged. Personally, I hope we never are."

The doctor flinched for a moment, hoping that the woman didn't show up at that moment.

However, Amy wasn't getting it. She was taking his blatant denial as… well, _denial. _

"Spoken like a true man deserted at the alter." She said cheekily. "You know what they say, Doctor. Hell hath no fury like a time lord ditched." She shrugged.

Wincing at the brutal massacre of some of the most ingenious words ever spoken, the Doctor frowned at her.

"Amy. Stop it." He ordered.

She didn't.

"I mean," she continued. "It makes sense. You and her were totally strange back there. She irritated you—just like any ex-wife would—and you didn't trust her. Not to mention you didn't want me going anywhere near her."

The Doctor held in his desire to put a hand over Amy's mouth to stop her talking. Instead he tried to explain.

"She's from the future. _My future." _He insisted. "She _can't _tell you anything, otherwise the results would be catastrophic. You can't find anything out about my future, or _yours." _

As per usual, she ignored him.

"That has to be why you can't stand the idea of me leaving Rory. Or even cheating on him. The idea of me and him falling through must upset you—"

Great Scott, did she never stop?

"Amy…"

"What happened though?" Amy queried out loud.

"Amy—"

"Did she cheat on you?" Amy asked. "She struck me as the type… I mean, it would explain why you have so many issues with the concept of you and me?"

"Pond. Stop it."

"I mean—I feel bad for Rory—of course I do. But really, what he doesn't know can't hurt him. And its not serious or anything. It's just a bit of… relief."

The Doctor flushed at the word '_relief.'_ He should really top her talking right about now.

"Amelia."

"Or, did she leave you at the alter? I BET that's it." Amy seemed to have finally deduced what happened for herself. "Did she run away with a stripper? That must by what you're so convinced that it important that I'm getting married tomorrow."

"_Amelia. Pond."_

"I bet that's exactly what happened." She concluded, her eyes widening in horror. "Oh, Doctor. You should have told me. It makes sense now. It all makes _sense—_!"

That was it.

Their proximity. Her breath on his face. His irritation. Her persistence. Her hair (the Doctor couldn't deny that he vibrant ginger locks had nothing to do with what happened next.) It all built up and exploded. Within seconds, the Doctor had grasped Amy by the waist—pulling his blabbering companion flush against him (and reveling in the final disregard of his outraged thoughts) and pressing his lips firmly against hers.

For a moment—this moment lasted far longer than the last—the Doctor was frozen. What had he just done? He was kissing Amy. He has initiated a kiss with Amy. He was the one holding Amy at the waist. He was the one who had pushed her flush against the control panels—and the blue boringer buttons—and he was the one leaning against her and keeping her there.

With no hesitation, Amy opened her mouth, and ran her tongue across the Doctor's lower lip.

_Blimey. _

He was kissing her. Consumed by his feelings, and disregarding logic, he gripped her tightly at his small waist, and pulled her—if possible—even closer to him. He could smell the cinnamon scent that she had always had. The same scent that he hadn't stopped thinking about since their last kiss. He could smell the strawberry of her fruit shampoo from _Jubberwtzyl _and the taste of her watermelon lip gloss that he thought only teenagers wore.

Hr hands had made their way to the back of his neck—playing absently with the curly hair that rested there—while her other hand playfully tugged at his bow tie. Mimicking her actions, the Doctor brought his hands to the ginger locks that often distracted him, and held her tighter to him.

For a time lord, it was embarrassing that he couldn't recall how long he stood there, breathlessly snogging his latest companion—the magnificent Amelia Pond.

But when his senses returned and they pulled apart—even time lords need air, and Amy was, as discussed, _human_—he fully registered the predicament he had placed himself in.

Both of them were leaning against the control panel in the center of the TARDIS. In the time that they had been kissing, his leg had slipped between hers, and his arm had almost fully enveloped her waist. She, herself was practically sitting on top of the controls—her hair mussed and her lips red. She was breathing heavily, staring at the Doctor with wide eyes. However, the smirk that was making her way onto her face was one of triumph—glad that she had finally got her way.

Slowly, he rested his forehead against Amy's and stared into her deep brown eyes.

"Wow." She breathed out, slowly—grinning at him. She giggled after that, deciding she liked playing with his hair and continuing to twist his curls around her fingers.

The Doctor, telling himself one more kiss couldn't hurt now, pressed one more, swift kiss to Amy's lips.

"I am not, never was, and hopefully never will be engaged, and or married to River Song." He concluded grandly.

Amy grinned.

"I knew it."

**God I love this pairing. I hope I did them justice. Please give me your thoughts in a review—they always make my you could tell me your favourite part, or how i could improve. That would be awesome.  
**

**Cheers. **

**G. **

**PS. Please don't favourite without reviewing! :)!  
**


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